The Benefits of Wandless Magic
by Healer Pomfrey
Summary: What if Harry wanted to get revenge on the Dursleys for hurting him? A little drabble, set in the summer after Harry's fifth year. Completely AU after book five, partly OOC, changing POVs, abuse!Dursleys, sick!Harry. Rating because of abuse.


**The Benefits of Wandless Magic**

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My muse insisted on writing this little pointless drabble this morning. I hope you like it nonetheless!  
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_I'm not a native speaker of English. Please excuse my mistakes or help me to correct them._

_All recognizable characters belong to J. K. Rowling, and I am not earning anything by writing this story._

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During a conversation with Sirius Black in Harry's fifth Hogwarts year, Harry found out that the Ministry of Magic could not recognise the use of underage magic if it was performed wandlessly. Ever since then, Harry tried hard to master that certain area of magic – secretly and with success.

When Harry returned to the Dursleys' home after his fifth year that ended with the fateful events in the Ministry of Magic, he sometimes used his newly acquainted abilities to help with the garden work whenever his relatives were absent.

However, one night, Vernon apparently realised that Harry couldn't have managed all the tasks on his long list by normal means and accused him of using magic. "I will not have you do freakish things in my home, do you understand me, boy?" he shouted, forcefully shoving Harry onto the ground.

"Yes sir," Harry replied in a small voice, holding his head in agony as his uncle's belt was swung through the air.

"Who are Cedric and Sirius by the way? Did you murder them?" Dudley asked interestedly. "You're always admitting your murder during your dreams."

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A few hours later, Harry was lying in his bed, feverishly trying to sleep. However, he had a splitting headache from the earlier impact on the floor, his back was covered with bruises and welts from the contact with the belt, his stomach tried to relieve itself from its meagre contents and his body felt burning hot and ice cold at the same time.

'_I didn't practise wandless magic for nothing_,' he thought and his fevered mind decided to get revenge on the Dursleys.

By the time Petunia knocked at his door to make him prepare breakfast, Harry felt even worse than during the night. Everything around him was blurry, and he had the impression as if he was captured in a bubble of fog. When Dudley came into the kitchen sneering at him, Harry weakly waved his hand at his cousin, silently casting a spell that caused Petunia to let out a shriek, which made Vernon appear in the kitchen.

Before the fat man could do as much as open his mouth, Harry waved his hand at his uncle and finally turned to his enraged aunt, making a faint effort to use the same spell once again.

Barely noticing that she transformed into an overly large tortoise like her husband and son, Harry collapsed on the floor, unconscious, while the three tortoises began to instinctively make their way through the open kitchen door out into the garden.

Several hours later, Harry's mind slowly turned back to awareness. He still felt horrible but realised in relief that his relatives were nowhere to be seen. '_Maybe they went out into the garden_,' he mused. '_I need to give them some water_.' Fiercely gripping his sore head, he dragged himself to the sink and drank some water, before he filled a small bowl and placed it in front of the back door in case the tortoises came and wanted to drink. With that he returned to the kitchen, firmly shutting the door behind him. '_Maybe I'll feel better if I sleep some more_,' he thought as he dragged his hurting body into his old cupboard, feeling too bad to climb upstairs.

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At Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry, Albus Dumbledore, Minerva McGonagall and Severus Snape were enjoying a quiet breakfast when all of a sudden an alarm penetrated the Headmaster's office.

"The blood wards around Harry's home are failing," Dumbledore said in utmost concern. "Severus, please go and check on Harry. I'm afraid that he might be in danger. If anything at the Dursleys' home is not in order, you must bring him to Hogwarts."

"Why me, Headmaster? The boy and I are hardly on good terms," Snape objected, horrified.

"Because Minerva would bring him to Hogwarts right away like she would have done thirteen years ago. I only want him to leave his relatives' home if it's inevitable," the Headmaster replied firmly, before he engrossed himself in the Daily Prophet that reported the appearance of three over-large tortoises on the streets of Little Whinging. '_Three large tortoises, aggressively attacking peoples' gardens_,' he mused, shaking his head.

"Little Whinging? Isn't that where Harry lives?" McGonagall suddenly spoke up, a concerned expression on her face.

"We'll see, Minerva; everything will be all right with Harry," Dumbledore replied in a soothing voice, absently popping a lemon drop into his mouth.

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At the same time, Professor Snape let himself into the Dursleys' residence by casting the _Alohomora_ spell at the front door. He was just about to shut the widely open door of the cupboard under the stairs when he heard quick breathing sounds coming from inside the small room.

"Potter!" Snape said in disbelief as he carefully approached the cupboard, taking in the boy's sickly figure. His face was scrunched in pain, his cheeks were deeply flushed, and his hair was sweaty and sticking to his forehead. "Potter, what happened?" he asked softly, crouching next to the boy on the floor.

Harry mumbled something incoherent about his uncle, a belt and tortoises, causing the Potions Master to rest the back of his left hand on the boy's forehead, while his right hand gripped the boy's wrist to feel his pulse. Realising that he wouldn't be able to receive any lucid information from the boy, he decided to take him straight to the hospital wing at Hogwarts. Leaving the cupboard for a moment, he checked the house for the boy's relatives, only to notice that Harry seemed to be all on his own. '_How can they leave him alone in such a condition, and why is he sleeping in a cupboard?_' he wondered as he returned to the boy's side. Quickly pulling his secret necklace out from under his black robes, he firmly pressed Harry's hand against the snake pendant and activated the emergency Portkey.

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Poppy Pomfrey was startled badly when an alarm sounded through the hospital wing, alerting her to the fact that one or more patients had arrived in spite of the fact that it was the middle of the summer holidays. '_So much about a quiet morning_,' she thought as she quickly abandoned her task of cleaning the potions cabinet and hurried out into the open wing, noticing that Severus was just placing a student on the bed next to her office.

"It's Potter, Poppy," he informed her in a quiet voice. "I found him like this at his relatives' house. He seems to have a high fever."

Poppy quickly cast a diagnostic spell at Harry, angrily muttering to herself at her findings, before she banished the boy's clothes with another wave of her wand, causing the Potions Master to involuntarily let out a loud gasp.

"He seems to have been beaten with a belt. His high fever results from the infected bruises on his back and his concussion. Please call the Headmaster, while I try to wake him up."

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During the next few days, Harry drifted in and out of sleep. When his mind was finally able to penetrate the fog around his head, he noticed a dark figure sitting beside his bed '_in the hospital wing at Hogwarts?_' he mused in disbelief.

"Welcome back to the world of the living," he heard a soft voice and listened in surprise to the Potions Master's explanations of how the teachers had found out everything about his treatment at the Dursleys' and about the fact that he had transfigured his family into tortoises.

"Professor," he mumbled, "I'm so sorry that I looked into your Pensieve. I didn't mean to. I only wanted to know what was going on. I promise that I won't tell anyone else. I only spoke with Sirius and Remus because they were so reckless and mean..."

"It's all right, Potter," the professor interrupted his tirade. "Don't make yourself so upset. You have a bad concussion and need to rest. What I meant to tell you was that the Dursleys are back to their human forms, and Madam Pomfrey, Professor McGonagall and I have reported them to the authorities because of child abuse. They will receive a trial at the Ministry of Magic during the next few days. For the time being, the Headmaster has appointed me your guardian."

'_Is that really Professor Snape, the greasy bat of the dungeons?_' Harry wondered. '_He seems so nice._' He lay back with a confused expression that turned into a small smile when the professor began to gently bathe his flushed face with a cool cloth. "Feels good," he mumbled drowsily, unconsciously reaching for his new guardian's cold hand. '_This seems too good to be true; I must be delirious_,' he mused as he drifted back to sleep with a small smile playing on his lips.

**The End**


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